Jealousy
by EndlessStorm
Summary: Because, as humans, it is our nature to get jealous of inanimate objects.


**A/N- _ha, totally not writing this at four am because I'm jealous or anything... ;;_**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note. **

_**-Jealousy-**_

* * *

><p>That god damn chocolate.<p>

Mello _always _has to have chocolate. Always. Any hour of the day, any place, any situation... the blonde boy always has chocolate.

It's the only thing that can calm him down after he's gone on one of his rampages; that's something not even_ I _can do.

Pretending to be focused on my game, I watched Mello from the corner of my eye as he laid on his bed reading and slowly brought the chocolate bar up to his lips.

_Of course. _

Sometimes, I wonder to myself if Mello ever notices the way he eats chocolate...

He swirls his tongue around it slowly...

He then draws his tongue back into his mouth, and it darts out occasionally to lick the bar.

Then he brings it into his mouth, sucking gently on it for a moment before finally biting down.

It's like he has some damn oral fixation or something.

... Kinky.

I couldn't help but let my mind wander, wondering how it would feel to be that bar of chocolate and have Mello's mouth on my-

"Matt? Why the hell are you staring at me?"

"U-um..."

Without replying, I stood up and dashed off to the bathroom to fix my "problem."

* * *

><p>I hate Matt's games.<p>

Oh God, do I hate them.

I mean, _I _was the first person to get Matt a handheld game system for Christmas years ago. Of course, I didn't suspect that video games would take over Matt's life, distract him every hour of the day that he wasn't forced into sleep.

And yet, after seeing how happy it made him, I couldn't bring myself to regret it.

But day after day, I watched Matt while he wasn't paying attention, while he was playing his games...

Some days, though, it just became too much, and I found it hard not to go over and break his game with my own hands.

Like that one night when he was muttering in his sleep about saving a peach or something.

But then I watched the smile light up his face as he beat a new game that was apparently really difficult. And he'd look at me with that smile, cock his head, and say, "I did it, Mels! Aren't you proud of me?"

And I would call him a dumbass, saying that he should focus more on his schoolwork.

In all honesty, I was just happy that he was happy.

Today, I watched as he started up a new game, automatically getting into it. His fingers flew across the buttons nimbly...

How did his fingers get to be so... swift... so fast...

So long, slender...

Why the hell couldn't those fingers be on me? -

_Wait. _

_Back up a minute. _

_No. _

Mello.

No.

This is Matt.

Your best friend.

Stop thinking about...

Stop... thinking...

Oh god... Matt's hands... those skillful fingers...

Oh, fuck it all.

I'm jealous of a gaming system.

* * *

><p>There were times in my life that I wanted to rip off Mello's rosary, open our window, and chuck it across the lawn.<p>

The only thing that kept me from it was knowing it would result in an immediate and unavoidable death.

The only thing more important to Mello than chocolate was that rosary. He always wore it. Part of me always wondered if he even wore it in the shower, but then my mind did a double take and realized that I really shouldn't be thinking about Mello in the shower, so that train of thought always was quick to die.

I remembered a conversation from when we were only six. I had just recently moved into Wammy's, and had just become Mello's friend. One thing had me curious, though...

_"Mello, why do you always wear that thing around your neck?"_

_Six-year-old Mello stiffened up, his hand going up to protectively grasp said rosary. "It's none of your business."_

_"Can I touch it?"_

_"No!" _

After that, Mello had pushed me down a flight of stairs.

I broke my arm.

Mello never mentioned it again.

I realized it was smart not to question his rosary.

But... it still angered me slightly how he was so protective of it. And how it was so important.

I knew that as long as Mello was wearing that, he would never return my feelings.

Then again, he probably would never return my feelings anyway.

...Then again, he probably would push me down another flight of stairs.

* * *

><p>I want to rip Matt's goggles off and put them in the kitchen's garbage disposal.<p>

Matt hides his eyes. Always. In fact, I'm pretty sure that other than myself and Roger, no residents of Wammy's House have ever seen Matt's eyes.

They're green; a beautiful, emerald green. The only time he ever removes his goggles is when he's in the safety of our locked room, but even then, it doesn't happen often.

But when it does... they're always filled with emotion. Too many emotions at once to even read them.

Sorrow. Pain. Grief.

Happiness. Relief. Humor.

Malice. Revenge. Arrogance.

... Love?

Someday, I hope Matt feels safe enough to remove his goggles.

He shouldn't hide.

He shouldn't worry.

He shouldn't be afraid.

He shouldn't be ashamed.

He shouldn't care what others think of him.

He shouldn't care what his eyes reveal.

He shouldn't _have _to do any of those things.

Matt... I'll protect you, always.

You don't have to hide anymore.

Just get rid of your damn goggles.


End file.
